Saturday, 2 July 2016

He wakes from maroon dreams,Into a world of summer autumn colour schemes.The maroon man with his myriad moods,At schemes ,chuckles, smirks,laughs and broods.Red from blood once flowing,From skin covering secret scars,That now radiant and lambent are glowing,Like battle scars on old guitars.Blue from a music of oppressed art,Blue borrowed scent, blue love and blue heart.And somewhere Bukowski is sounding a rebel yell,'Love......love is a dog from hell.'As his eyes crave the sepia tint of nostalgia,Blue and red blend , overpowering melancholia.Hail muse! As nocturne sea brings foam to shore,As maroon distills into purity from its ore.City moves in chemically somnambulistic steps,As poets of buildings large and small perplex.Between these lines of cathartic ink,Maroon turns into crimson,magenta or even pink.

And bring up a poem." The poetry books are out of print, but that is as it should be if you're an Indian poet writing in English ."-Jeet Thayil in the preface of 'Collected poems'. Poetry is prayer for the godless people - Jeet Thayil

It's exactly as Dylan says.The rain is a metaphor for many things , and vulnerability is one of them.

/* I can't even start on the inevitability of change. It is going to happen , yet we cling to the familiar. Like a comforting summer in the middle of winter. This is not an uncommon euphemism on this blog, and it refers to porcupine tree and Albert Camus at the same time ( yeah, that's some combination) . But that is perhaps the only answer to change. Time flies, and the best that you can do is take whatever comes to you , cherish it and then let it go. If we weren't specks of dust in cosmic sand, perhaps the summers would last for ever, but that is not the case. All we can do is make good memories and let them guide us through the unfamiliar, unpredictable future.If you've had to say goodbye to good friends you know what I mean (and that's why I wrote this ). Dans les profondeurs de l'hiver je l'ai trouvé un été invincible as Camus should say .... that summer within , that's where time stands still. */

/*Also finally, a recording of trains . Hit the souncloud link below to get the summers metaphor better . */

Here's an acoustic guitar slinging , dreamily crooning John Mayer telling you basically the same thing.

/* So this one is about the virtues of silence and minimalism. I think in the fast and chaotic world we find ourselves in , the few moments of silence and poignant observation are rather amiss and rare. Great work of art always have paid attention to this idea. How many notes does BB King have to play to say what he wants to say and how many words does Hemingway have to write to convey all the horrors of war? I think we could all benefit from a few moments of silence and reserve in a world full of noise and chaos. Of course , too much of silence can never be a good thing, but given how fast and loud modern life has become , it is always great when art remind us to take a moment and just observe.*/